


the flower that blooms in adversity

by lovelyrutabagas



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alois Trancy Being An Asshole, Ciel Phantomhive Being an Asshole, Everyone Being an Asshole, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, In all the worst ways, Minor Character Death, Rich Snobbery, Short Chapters, but pretends to be a boy to get rich, ciel & alois just made it worse, demons help them get away with it, no romance planned but who knows, reader is female, self-indulgent reader au, the stress alone would've probably made you bald, wait I do, your father is an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25905832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyrutabagas/pseuds/lovelyrutabagas
Summary: your father is dead, and also, supposedly, rich beyond your wildest dreams. too bad the catch to claiming that fortune lies in masquerading as his estranged son and not the secret daughter you actually are, all the while avoiding two creepy child-lords and their equally creepy servants.it doesn't feel worth all this effort.
Relationships: Alois Trancy & Reader, Ciel Phantomhive & Alois Trancy, Ciel Phantomhive & Reader, Reader & Original Character(s), Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. heart ache

**Author's Note:**

> weird black butler fanfic I wanted to write since forever but im still not sure how to go abt it so bear with me people. its short chapters again

Mother tells you the news as soon as she can read the letter for herself, and sobs hysterically into her handkerchief while you process it. 

Your father is dead. A man you’ve never even met, let alone loved, is dead and has left all of his vast estate and fortune to the one child he conceived within the bounds of marriage (however unofficial the marriage itself was, with no priest.)

“Oh, my dear! You mustn't go!” Mother cries when you don’t deny the letter and  it’s implications. A fortune, all for  _ you  _ if you were willing to show up to England for it. It seemed too good to be true, and you knew that as a girl, your claim would be weaker than a male bastard’s.

“Darling-?” You don’t give her a chance to finish.

“Mother, what did  father look like?” 

Teary-eyed, she looks at you, and you stare back. She trembles and cries harder, but tells you what he looked like, how he acted, and what he enjoyed spending his money on. You look like him so much, mother says, that it sometimes makes her heart ache.


	2. fourthhand

The next few days pass by startlingly fast. You withdraw from town with little fuss, and hole yourself up in your home. Mother cuts and brushes your hair the way she remembers father wore it, and cries the whole time. She sews your patchwork clothes together as best she can, but one glance is all it takes to see that they’re fourthhand and counting. 

Hopefully your father’s servants won’t put too much effort into dressing you; you’d hate to go through the pains of getting rid of them right away.

Mother isn’t surprised when you share these thoughts with her; she knows how determined you can be, how absolutely ruthless you are with completing your goals. She shares your concerns and, from the hard glint in her eye, is willing to do just as much, if not more to keep you safe and secure. She’s  fiercely determined to see this through now. 

It’s times like these that you wonder why your father didn’t really marry your mother. 

The trip to the docks is excruciating; you don’t want to leave the only family you’ve known for strangers, but the fortune alone would make up for the loss. You promise to write and call as soon as you arrive, the call will be short and the letter long, and your mother holds your face in her hands and weeps. 

She doesn’t try to stop you from stepping on the ship.


	3. empty

The time spent on the boat is... better left unsaid. You hardly leave your cabin, seasick beyond your wildest expectations, and cry with every explosion of bile. You eat very little, and drink just as much. It all comes back up in a matter of hours anyway, you reason, and the trip is nearly over already. 

When the Captain announces that the shore is just a scant few miles away, you begin to prepare yourself for the scrutiny sure to come of an unaccompanied child on an aristocrat’s ship. You practice your walk, your back straight, your head high; the sneer makes you look snobbish enough already, but you don’t want to be taking any chances. 

You make for the deck and stand as still as you can manage. Occasionally you sway with the sea, but you keep a tight rein on your upset stomach. You haven’t eaten in a day, and your water was long lost that morning after a particularly rough wave, so your stomach is unbearably empty and you know you’ve lost more weight. 


	4. steel

Your first servant is ancient and pale, and she trembles like a leaf when she sees you step onto the dock. Beside her is a younger girl, a full head taller than you, and eyes like steel. They introduce themselves as Edith, the housekeeper, and Agnes, the coachwoman. 

They’re quiet as they load your trunk of goods into the carriage, and quiet on the ride to the manor. 

They unload quietly, they move quietly, and all the quiet is beginning to drive you mad. The old maid sees your temper is about to snap, perhaps from her experience dealing with your father, and sparks a conversation. 

“Your trip was pleasant, my lord?”

You inhale through your nose, counting backwards from ten. She’s trying. “Yes, Edith. Though long, it was a pleasant-enough ordeal.”

“Good, good. You look a mite tired, my lord,” Edith pauses, uncertain. “My lord’s father used to have us run a bath every night; said it helped him to relax.” 

A bath sounds lovely. You tell her as much and instruct her not to linger after it’s drawn. You will bathe yourself and dress yourself. Short of an opinion on a piece of clothing they will not be allowed into your room whilst you rest or change.

Edith is markedly relieved. You don’t wonder as to why that is.

That night, after your bath is taken and dinner is served you spot Agnes down the hall, retiring to her quarters for the night. She looks at you and her eyes are hard, but there is none of the steel from the docks to be seen. 

You’re coming to realize that your father was not a good man, and you look very much like him. 


	5. education

Your first appointment is with a Duke from your late father’s club. You don’t hide your apathy at the  man's death, and it clearly makes the Duke uncomfortable; he arrives well before “tea-time" and does not stay long enough to partake as he planned to.

“Good day, my lord.” He murmurs, and it doesn’t quite rankle the way he says  _ my lord _ . It’s merely a polite formality. Even you understand that with your limited education and class. 

The thought strikes you. Throughout your short meeting with the Duke you cannot stop thinking of it. He notices your occupation and doesn’t push beyond what you assume to be the usual questions of estranged nobility: 

_ How were the Americas?  _

_ Did you enjoy your studies?  _

_ Your teeth could use some work, your father was a frequent visitor to our local dentist, would you like to visit him as well? _

And lastly,  _ who was your mother? _

This question leaves your stomach in knots, nervous for the first time since arriving in this strange country. 

“My mother,” you begin carefully, “Was a  commoner with no education, heritage, or class. She was a maidservant for a wealthy family in the town where she met my father, and managed to catch his eye. I’m told he had a...  _ fascination  _ with the serving class.”

When he leaves, sweating through his clothes, you straighten from your limited height and catch Edith’s eye before she speaks. At least one positive came from the Duke’s visit. 

“Fetch me the most reputable tutors, with the finest pupils, and have them begin my lessons within the week.”

You don’t linger to hear her sputtering, nor Agnes’ cursing. Your ears are still well enough to catch them, though, and it’s the first thing to put a smile on your face in weeks. 


	6. tutors

Edith does not disappoint.

Your first tutor (in a long line of tutors) is a tall man with impeccable style and a dark coloring. He introduces himself as the one who will teach you everything you will need to know and then some, and you feel something wicked curl in your mind. 

Your second bears no mentioning, as he lasts only the day before leaving in a flurry of curses and upturned pottery. Your third and fourth tutors follow a similar outburst, but they are the last belligerent ones. You request a hefty schedule of work and education and make tutors of your late father’s businessmen. 

They learn very quickly that you have a very low tolerance for obscene stupidity. 

A month later, your tutors have gone from twelve to just two. Your favorites, mused Edith to herself, despite your close proximity. She’s right, of course, and you feel a sort of pleasant affection begin to develop for the maid. 

You’re torn between them.

In a life where you’ve been forced to take and take only the most important thing for survival, you can’t help but falter when it comes to whom you feel more affection for. Your tutors or your maid?

In the end it all boils down to the fact that Edith remains in your employee despite your father’s  existence beforehand. These men know nothing of the pain and humiliation the former lord inflicted upon his limited staff. 

You keep your tutors close, but Edith squirms ever closer to your heart.


End file.
